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Talk:Comment bank/@comment-32153758-20161009013643
On a starry night... Glasses of brown, fizzling wine clinked against each other as the soldiers, dressed in green, rejoiced over another long day of work. The ceiling fan spun over them, giving them white noise to accompany the jazz music playing off from the speakers. Opposite of the bartender, who was washing some of the bottles, was a man, covered in a dark green trench coat, his face covered by the metallic black mask that absorbed his entire head, a peaked cap on top to accent his superiority over the rest of his subordinates. Darksire, with his drinking straw, sipped from his own little cup, accompanied by a relatively large GPS, propped up on a stand. "It is 11:00PM, sir. Should we get going?" A robotic voice called out to its master. Darksire leaned his check on his hand in response, still drinking from his cup. "It's already that late? Shame. How does that report of mine fair?" Darksire asked. "I have finished editing it, and it is now released under classification 9." "Good." Darksire stood up, slammed a few bucks on the counter, and walked away, carrying Delusion's GPS with him. Creaking open the door, Darksire peeked at the darkened skies, light twinkles in the air, providing light even as the day grew late. He took a few steps out of the bar, and decided to stand still and stare at them for a little while. "Say, Delusion, do you think I've done a good job?" Darksire held the GPS up, waiting for a response. "Well, let's see, you've successfully created a decently large navy, own the biggest furniture making corporation, started up a online retail store, have full respect from most of our citizens, which by the way, lead wonderful lives here... the list goes on, sir." "I know that. Back then, however... I was a worse person, wasn't I?" "We both were bad people in our past. Look where I am now, and look where you are now as well. I think we've done a good job, atoning for our mistakes, sir." Darksire looked down at the ground, and hung his arm loosely, Delusion's GPS swinging back and forth like a string. The spherical eye looked at Darksire, and started to shake. "Sir, you don't look well." "Tch... well, then... guess I need to go home and take a nap..." And Delusion's chassis fell onto the ground, rebounding off and getting knocked to the sidewalk. Delusion could only watch as Darksire rocked forward, then backwards, stumbling and trying to regain his balance. Red liquid shot out from the mouth vent of his master's mask, and a hand came up to try to block the blood from exiting, to no avail. He held himself against the wall. "How long... have I lived? ... I already know the answer to that question. Too d*mn long..." The CEO of HYDRAXIS slid down the wall, falling unconscious and limp. "Sir! Sir!" The AI cried to the man, but it was futile. He did not respond. Delusion quickly contacted the soldiers from inside the bar, and they rushed out, spotting their leader slumped down. "Mr. Darksire!" They screamed, and they gathered around him, shaking him around. By 12:00, Darksire had been taken to a nearby hospital to recover, but it didn't look good. For now, someone would have to take his spot, someone more youthful... but who? ------------------- To be continued (after I think of a replacement)